A Robinson Christmas Mystery
by MaskedxMaestro
Summary: Wilbur and Carl set out to solve a Christmas mystery involving the twins, Spike and Dimitri.


Finding ways to pass the time during a stakeout mission can be difficult. Well, difficult for those that aren't use to doing them on a daily basis, anyway. For Wilbur Robinson and Carl, stakeout missions were so common that they had already established a regular routine to ensure their success. From talking about their day to playing games, and even to setting up complicated pranks on passerby's, the inseparable pair were able to make three hours seem like three minutes.

Tonight, however, their ability to keep from being bored (and falling asleep!) was put to the test. And given that four hours had already passed and it was well past midnight in the chill of the winter night air..? It would be a miracle if they made it all the way until dawn.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me!" Wilbur snapped, slapping a backhand against his robotic friend's arm. "You gotta pull through!"

"Listen, pumpkin-breath." Carl snorted back, irritability starting to set in from not being able to rest. "It's three in the morning and we've seen no sign of movement. I'm pretty sure I'm entitled to feeling a bit drowsy."

"Dude, you do this every year to me. We've been trying to figure this out every Christmas season for as long as I can remember and every time you always either fall asleep or convince me to go inside the house for some reason and we miss it." "Hey, hey, hey! Just because I fall asleep doesn't mean you can't stay up to continue the watch for us!"

"Shh, shh, wait, I heard rustling."

"Wait, why haven't be tried setting up a schedule where we take turns watching while the other sleeps? Do you realize how genius that would-"

"CARL! SHUT UP!" Wilbur yelled, frantically grabbing his friend and slapping a hand over the robot's mouth.

A rustle came from the front porch.

Immediately a shiver ran through both of them as they turned to stare at the potted plants on either side of the front door. The bushes looked cold with the added weight of snow atop them. In between both pots were a pile of assorted christmas decorations, laying there as if someone had placed them on the porch with intention to decorate something only to have forgotten in the middle of the project, leaving them stranded.

After a few moments of holding their breath, Wilbur released Carl from his grip and they both sighed.

"Way to scare them with your yelling, butter-britches." Carl muttered as he absent-mindedly brushed some snow off of the bush they were hiding behind.

"I wouldn't have yelled if you hadn't been rambling like you always do." Wilbur responded, sinking back into the snow in a defeated manner.

"I don't think we're ever going to see Spike and Dimitri decorate their trees." Carl said. "It's a mystery every year. We leave out the decorations for them every year sometime during the Christmas season and then magically the decorations end up on the trees by morning without anyone having seen them do it. At this point it's almost like tradition that we don't know."

"Well, I'm not giving up. This is the longest we've managed to stay out here waiting out of any of the years that we've tried."

Carl sighed again and rubbed his temples.

"I get what you're saying, little buddy. But how about I go inside and get you something warm to drink, at least? If your mom finds out that you've been outside in the snow for four hours she's going to have my head on a platter. I don't even want to think about what excuse you're going to come up with if you get a cold."

"Relax. I'll think of something if that happens. And besides, I'm fine. Wilbur Robinson never gets colds."

Carl responded with a look of sarcasm and folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. He could tell that the boy was shivering, trying hard to feign normalcy through his thick winter clothes, but he said nothing.

"Alright, then. I'll be back."

Wilbur waved with hardly any effort.

"Use the backdoor so that they don't see you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not that stupid." Carl said before disappearing.

Getting up onto his knees, Wilbur peered over the bushes and stared at the twins' pots. He would never admit to being tired but he'd be lying if he tried to claim that a yawn hadn't escaped his lips that night. And as the minutes passed by, it was proving more and more difficult to keep his eyes open without Carl there to preoccupy his mind.

To keep his mind focused, Wilbur tried to think of things that had happened earlier that day. It was December 1st and the family had decided it was finally time to decorate for the season. Perhaps growing through a mental list of what had happened that day would help keep him awake.

Laszlo had offered to fly him around the house in order to hang the lights. That was certainly a blast. Although he did feel a bit bad for Fritz who was burdened with the task of untangling the giant mess of wires for them. The mess itself wasn't all that bad but Petunia's criticisms were the real trouble.

Speaking of Petunia, had he planned enough gifts for her..? It was always tricky getting gifts for her since she always had a knack for being unappreciative of his gag-goodies (he would never make the mistake of buying her matches again) but she was notoriously always in a bad mood if she didn't get more gifts than Fritz and he needed to plan things accordingly.

Putting aside the thought of gift-giving, Wilbur shifted his attention back to what had happened that day. Let's see, oh yes, Lucille had turned the kitchen into a cookie-baking factory. She was always bound and determined to make cookies for all the neighbors every year but word had spread so much of her famous recipe that over time it always seemed like there were new recipients of the baked goods every season, and as such, the cooking-making process became more complicated with every new Christmas that came. Lefty had even been asked to join her this year as the added hands (tentacles?) would be of major help. Not many families could say they had an octopus monster in a frilly apron helping make their Christmas cookies, could they? The smell of baking dough around the house became such a sugary wonderland that even Cornelius claimed to be affected by it all the way up in the Observatory. Affected in a good way, that is.

And who could forget about the grand reveal that his dad had made this year? A new and improved Christmas tree that could set itself up without anyone having to lift a finger. To be perfectly honest, Wilbur was shocked that his father hadn't come up with this idea before this year but perhaps he was too busy focusing on other matters. Everyone was happy to see it, especially Aunt Billie. After all, she was in charge of the train that goes around it and this was the perfect opportunity to come up with something bigger and more grand than last year. That being said, Wilbur's mother was still insistent on keeping the old tree and opted to continue the tradition of setting it up "the old fashioned way" in another room of the house (much to the delight of Gaston who was always in charge of putting the star up on top of the tree).

A yawn pushed it's way out of Wilbur's chest. Shaking his head, Wilbur squinted at the front porch. He couldn't possibly give up now. Four hours was a long time to waste on a failed mission. He had to try and think of other things.

Take, for instance, the year that Cornelius had invented an easier way to shovel snow. Wilbur was so grateful for this invention. No more frozen fingers or tired shoulders! Then again, who was he to complain about shoveling snow when here he was willing to wait all night in the freezing stuff just to prove a wild theory that Spike and Dimitri actually leave their pots in order to decorate their trees?

He shivered. The temperature had dropped heavily since the sun had gone down and now that it was the middle of night, the only thing keeping him from running to take a hot shower was the ambition to stay true to his word. I mean, come on, years of wondering about this great mystery and all you have to do is stay up all night in the cold to watch, hidden in the shadows? No sir, Wilbur Robinson was not giving up this year. Especially after coming so close.

"I'm back. I brought hot chocolate."

Wilbur turned to see Carl, sporting a new scarf, hat, and mittens, handing him a warm mug.

"...Uh, why are you wearing those?" Wilbur asked, taking the mug eagerly, not realizing just how numb his fingers had been inside his gloves until he touched the warm ceramic. "You're not exactly capable of getting sick."

"Yeah, well..!" Carl went to explain before finding it hard to come up with a reason on the spot. He stumbled for a minute before sputtering, "Ever wondered why you can't put a toaster in a bathtub? Maybe you shouldn't put a robot in the snow."

"Carl, you're designed to be able to withstand snow."

"...Maybe I just like the way it looks."

"There you go."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound coming from Wilbur's occasional slurping. The warm drink was starting to make him feel sleepy but he was trying hard to resist the urge to let his eyes close. He couldn't let his mission fail.

Carl looked over at his friend with a weak smile. The kid was clearly sinking from exhaustion but his desperate attempt of trying not to was adorable. Sure, the bot wanted just as badly to see Spike and Dimitri decorate their plants, but he was starting to think the tradition itself of Wilbur and him trying to see it happen every year was more enjoyable than the actual event.

The robot watched as Wilbur's eyelids drooped and soon his friend's head had sunk to his chest and he was breathing deeply with oncoming sleep. For a while, Carl took over as watchman but the pots were just as quiet and unmoving as they had been all night. And after four and a half hours of waiting... He gave up too.

* * *

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"

Carl shook awake from the sudden yell. Confused, he looked around to find the source of the noise. Had he fallen asleep outside..?

Wilbur was standing in an slightly crouched position, hands on his head with his mouth agape.

"WE MISSED IT AGAIN!"

Finally the memories of last night's mission came flooding back to Carl's memory banks and he slumped at the thought of having disappointed them both. Standing, the bot looked over to see Spike and Dimitri's bushes had both been decorated beautifully with the objects that had once been sitting on the porch steps. Twinkling red and yellow decorations glittered across the leaves, and not a sight of the twins could be seen. They had done it again, the mystery never to be solved for at least another Christmas.

"Well. I guess that's that." Carl said, putting his hands on his hips.

"I can't believe this! Another whole year before we can learn the truth! And it's all your fault for giving me that warm drink!" yelled Wilbur in a frustrated tone of voice.

"Woah, hey, little buddy, excuse me for caring about your safety!"

"I can take care of myself!" "Oh, really? How about we talk about what happened two months ago in-"

"ACHOO!"

Wilbur sneezed before gasping and looking down at himself. His fingers were numb from the cold and judging by Carl's expression, he had no doubt that his nose was probably red and his skin was most likely a pale color. Startled, both of them gave the other a panicked look. There was a moment's silence as each tried to calculate what to do.

"Don't tell mom."

Carl nodded frantically.

"Agreed."


End file.
